


Ballgate

by LadyMyfanwy



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 11:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12253512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMyfanwy/pseuds/LadyMyfanwy
Summary: This is an AU about an unfortunate event in Jack and Ianto's lives. Miss Beeb has apologised for the incident





	Ballgate

Four days.

It had been four days since the playful incident at Radio 1’s studio 2B had turned into the nightmare known as ‘Ballgate’.

Four days since the show’s irreverent hosts had goaded Jack into playing a prank over the air waves. It had begun during the interview intended to promote Jack’s latest CD, ‘Favourite Songs of Yesterday’, when Owen Harper had laughingly announced, "We've heard through the grapevine that you're famous for getting your willy out during interviews. Is this going to happen today?" 

As an overly obsessed fan of the entertainer and clearly the biggest proponent in the room of Jack’s exposing himself, co-host Gwen Cooper-Williams had started chanting, “fruit and nuts!” over and over again, her high-pitched voice driving Owen a bit bonky. When Jack reached for his zipper she had screamed quite loudly with shrill delight, causing the sound meters in the control booth to spike.

“Really? Well then, I’m gonna get it out for ya!” Jack had responded playfully, having to jump up from his seat just in time and dash around the desk in order to deftly avoid Gwen’s way, way too eager ‘helping’ hands. Not taking the hint, Gwen had chased after him, trying to pin the object of her fantasies in the corner so she could get her hands on his private bits. Jack considered himself very lucky that Owen had grabbed a hold of Gwen’s arm and yanked her away from their guest just in time.

It had been four days since Jack had ‘exposed’ his cock to his radio hosts in a typical ‘Jack Harkness-style’ bit of outrageousness; however, truth be told, he’d had maintained enough common sense to only show a small amount of skin to Gwen and Owen. Gwen’s sex-addled brain had sent her into a swoon of lust which did not prevent her from shouting with glee while trying her hardest to force Jack into a chair so she could sit on his lap.

Four days since the story had hit the evening news, headlining the papers and the telly, and setting gossiping tongues wagging.

It had been four days since Jack had gone to bed, pulled the duvet over his head and stopped being Jack. The only time he’d emerged from his self-imposed exile was to use the toilet and poke through the contents of the refrigerator without ever actually picking anything to eat.

Toshiko Sato, Jack’s manager and good friend, had called the house before Jack had returned from London, giving Ianto a head-up on the incident and warning him that things weren’t going to go well this time. Problems surrounding the incident had started popping up even before Jack had begun the one-hundred-and-fifty-mile drive home.

It would seem that the old adage, ‘Any publicity is good publicity’ was wrong this time around.

Ianto stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the dogs run around in the dark chasing fireflies, their own tails and each other while he made a mental map of their doggie landmines so that in the morning, he could clean the yard. He was at a complete loss as to what to do for Jack, how to break him out of an ever-deepening funk. Like any normal person, Jack had always had a bad day every now and again, but the clouds would clear up by the next morning; everything always looked better after a good night’s sleep.

He was truly worried about his husband; in all their years together, he’d never seen Jack take criticism to heart so deeply before. 

After the story had been splashed all over the press, Toshiko had called again but Jack had vehemently refused to speak to her, leaving Ianto to deal with the petite Japanese dragon. “Ianto, you know I love Jack, but sometimes I’d like to put my stiletto right up his nose!” she’d roared down the line. She’d explained that the reports, which ranged from Jack giving Owen and Gwen a quick glimpse of the infamous Harkness Hound all the way to Jack dropping his trousers and running half-naked around the studio and control booth, were greatly exaggerated. She repeatedly reassured Ianto that nothing physical had been seen by the public because at the last second, Owen had thrown his jumper over the studio’s only live camera, one which allowed the listening audience to watch the broadcast via their computers. 

In Ianto’s opinion, it didn’t seem to be as bad as it could have been. With nothing broadcast over the video feed, the listeners could only hear as the joking, innuendo and laughter that had ensued as Jack presented a small part of his bits and then been rolled around the studio in a wheelbarrow. Where that had come from was still a complete mystery to Ianto. 

The rattle of the refrigerator door behind him pulled Ianto from his reverie and he turned to see Jack – or at least his arse – sticking out from behind the door. Leaving the dogs to finish their evening business without him, Ianto stepped up to and peered over the fridge door. As usual, Jack was merely shifting things around on the shelves and in the bins, not really noticing anything he was touching. Ianto wondered how long it had been since Jack had actually eaten.

“Hey there,” he spoke softly, not wanted to startle the man.

Jack froze for a second, sheer panic in his eyes, but then he plastered a smile on his face and slowly straightened up to face his lover. “Ianto!” he forced cheerfulness into his voice.

Ianto wasn’t fooled for a moment; he could see the pain in his husband’s eyes and that hurt him deeply. He wasn’t sure why Jack was taking it all so hard this time; he’d pulled pranks before, he’d exposed himself before, he’d been outrageous his entire adult life. ‘What makes this time so different?’ 

“Sweetheart, are you all right?” Ianto opened his arms wide and encouraged Jack to come to him. It only took a moment before his beleaguered husband was holding onto him as if he’d never let go.

Jack buried his face in his lover’s neck and breathed in deeply. He loved the way Ianto smelled; it was a delicious combination of soap and aftershave, with a hint of coffee and that indescribable something that only Ianto had. Under normal conditions, it was a never-fail aphrodisiac, but tonight it was just wonderfully comforting.

Relishing the warmth from Jack’s skin pressed against his, Ianto held him quietly for several minutes before drawing back enough to say, “Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll join you just as soon as I let the dogs back in, okay?” He gave Jack an encouraging little push towards the lounge. “Go on, I’ll be there quick as I can.”

Reluctantly, Jack nodded and shuffled slowly out of the kitchen while Ianto filled the kettle and plugged it in, then he set out the tea tray, pulled the teapot and mugs from the cupboard, grabbed the milk jug from the fridge – it had gotten shoved to the very back of the shelf by Jack’s haphazard foraging. Then he added the sugar bowl and a couple of spoons before plopping teabags into the pot – he wasn’t going to bother warming the china this time, although if his mam-gu ever saw him taking a shortcut like that she’d box his ears; “Ifan! I taught you better than that, my wee baban!” Finally, he hurried to the back door where the dogs were waiting anxiously.

“Sissy boys, aren’t you! Afraid to be out in the dark all by yourselves.” Ianto’s words held nothing but affectionate. It really was dark in the garden if the back lights weren’t on. With the house situated on a cliff overlooking the Bristol Channel, there was no light pollution and the stars stood out like beacons in the night sky. He and Jack loved to lay on the double chaise lounge looking out over the ocean, pointing out passing ships and basking in the starlight. Jack had revealed during a different, earlier interview that that chaise had seen more than its fair share of erotic action since it had arrived in the Harkness-Jones household last summer.

After pouring water into the pot so the tea could steep and then dropping the tea cosy on top, it didn’t take Ianto long to get the dogs settled in their kennels for the night. “Good boys, now here’s your bedtime treats.” He handed a chewy bone to each animal and made sure there was plenty of clean water in their bowls, then he set the tea tray on the dining room table and pulled the gate across the kitchen door. The dogs had free run of the house during the day, if one of their humans was home, but at night they stayed in the kitchen where they were out of mischief. The kennel doors were left open so the dogs could come and go at will.

When Ianto arrived in the lounge, tea tray in hand, he found the room barely lit by a lamp on the far side table and Jack standing in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling picture windows staring out at the sea. With clear skies above, the starlight reflected eerily across the dark water and far off on the horizon the lights of a passing freighter were visible.

Ianto set the tea tray on the low table and took his customary seat at the end of the sofa; he prepared the two mugs the way they liked and waited for Jack to join him, patting the cushions next to him. “Come sit with me, Cariad.”

There was a distinct hiccupy sob from Jack when he heard the endearment, ‘Cariad’. In Welsh it meant beloved and it touched his heart like a warm hug. Slowly he turned away from the window, crossed over to the couch and then in a flurry of movement that nearly upset the tea tray, Jack threw himself down next to his husband, landing on his side so that his knees were against the back of the couch and his face was buried in Ianto’s lap.

Silence reigned for several long minutes and then Jack spoke, his voice muffled by Ianto’s body. “Tell me what you think,” he pulled back so he could look Ianto in the eye. “Tell me what you really think, please?”

As he stroked his long fingers through his lover’s hair – being free of product for once it felt silky and luxurious – Ianto carefully weighed his words. He didn’t want to hurt Jack’s feelings or upset him further, but honesty was one of the cornerstones of their long-lived relationship. Besides, Jack knew him well enough to know when he was lying.

‘Okay, here goes.’ Ianto drew in a deep breath. “In this instance, yes, I think you might have… you were mistaken.” He felt Jack stiffen a bit beneath his hand, but it was a momentary thing and then he relaxed again.

“The thing is, sweetheart, you’re not as young as you used to be.” Ianto knew his words were a bit on the harsh side, but the truth was the truth and there was no way to sugar-coat it.

Jack pulled back in mock-horror, sucking in a great shuddering gasp and clapping his hand to his hair. “More grey hair? Say it isn’t so!” and then he laughed. Jack had been prematurely grey for many years, needing to have his hair professionally coloured about every two weeks to keep his roots from showing. He’d tried going all grey once but it had seriously freaked Ianto out.

Ianto poked him in the ribs. “You know what I mean, love. You’re not twenty-five anymore. The things you did twenty-odd years ago that were cute, risqué, sexy… they aren’t seen the same way now that you’re forty.”

“I still look good, though, right?” Jack pouted prettily, his lips pursed and begging for a kiss.

With a loving smile, Ianto kissed away his husband’s winsome pucker. “Yes, you’re still my beautiful boy,” the Welshman soothed him, rubbing circles on his back. “You’re just as beautiful as the day I met you. Always have been, always will be.”

His ego satisfied, Jack settled back down in Ianto’s lap. “Just as long as we’re clear on that,” he murmured with a slightly smug air.

Rolling his eyes, Ianto cradled his partner. “The point is, things are different now. Twenty years ago, you releasing the hound, so to speak, was merely laughed at. ‘Oh, there goes Harkness again!’ Today things are so much different; look at all these old celebrities accused of molesting children and teens. You can’t turn on the telly or open the paper without a new scandal popping up.”

Jack chuckled softly and Ianto swatted him on the arse.

“Not meant to be funny, Cariad,” he scolded. “Those people are over, it doesn’t matter if they’re guilty or not, their careers are over.”

A jolt of fear shot through Jack’s belly at the idea he might never be on stage or television again. Performing for the public, be it on the West End as a leading man, on the concert stage, or appearing on TV, entertaining his fans was his life’s work. It was all he’d ever wanted to do and he’d been working at his craft since childhood.

Aware that Jack’s thoughts had turned inward, Ianto waited a few seconds. “Toshiko told me that there was only one complaint call, and that the laptop’s camera was covered so there is no video footage available that can go up on YouTube.” He squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “It might not seem like much but that’s good news, really. Without video to keep the story alive and hold people’s attention, all this is already dying down.” Ianto hoped his words would reassure Jack, but he could feel hot tears soaking through the thin fabric of his sleep pants.

“The last thing you want is to get a reputation as a dirty old man, right?” Ianto lightly tickled Jack’s ribs, gaining a short chuckle. “You know how much you love doing panto every Christmas, but they’re such a family venue and I don’t want people – parents – to avoid your shows because they’re afraid you’re going to expose yourself to their kids.” 

Jack reared back and glared at his husband in righteous outrage. “I would never do that!” he snapped furiously.

“You know that, Cariad, and I know that, I’m just saying,” Ianto ran his fingers through Jack’s hair, settling them on his neck where he gently kneaded tense muscles. “We both know people can be right wankers sometimes.”

Jack was silent as he absorbed the truth of Ianto’s words. ‘He’s right.’ Mentally he shook his head. ‘I never thought about the long-term impact of my actions.’ 

Pulling back far enough to look up into Ianto’s blue-grey eyes, seeing the concern for him there, Jack nodded. “I’m sorry I put you through all this.” He reached up and stroked his husband’s face. “Thank you for standing with me. I couldn’t do any of this without you. I love you with all my heart.”

“I love you too, Cariad; you have my heart, always.” Ianto looked deeply into Jack’s eyes. “We’ll get through this, you know that. Together we can weather anything.”

Feeling better than he had all week, Jack let his beloved Welshman lead him upstairs where they spent the night reaffirming their love for one another again and again.

End


End file.
